


Home is where the AI is

by IDIC



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Hurt Tony, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Bruce Banner, Team Feels, Team as Family, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, grieving tony
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 18:29:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14526570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IDIC/pseuds/IDIC
Summary: Tony is having a bad day.





	Home is where the AI is

**Author's Note:**

> Standard disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended. Characters are not mine, just borrowing them for fun.
> 
> My first Marvel Universe work. Quite new to this fandom, so if I made any errors about timelines or other facts please tell me.
> 
> This takes place during the 'Age of Ultron'. Since I found nothing that hinted at how much time passed between the 'hammer lifting' at the tower (which was interrupted by Ultron) and the moment the team arrived in the African salvage yard, I assumed it took some time to figure out where exactly Klaue was. Time in which the team went on another minor mission, saving the day. This takes place after that mission.

Tony stared at the mess in front of him. The building was collapsing beneath the Quinjet and a big dust cloud was moving upwards.

They had managed it, saved all the people, no one was harmed, everything was fine – except the building of course. But since this had been kind of a rescue mission, this meant: Mission accomplished.

However, a few minutes ago, when they had returned to the jet _something_ had happened. He didn't know what or why, just that it had somehow become harder to breathe and the adrenaline had started pumping again, although it was all over.

He tried to remind himself of that.

It was over.

Hoping it would enable him to breathe easier, he opened the faceplate. He was perfectly aware that within the suit oxygen supply was optimal, but he needed room to breathe.

While his teammates made jokes and planned dinner, he tried to control whatever was happening, glad they weren’t giving him any attention at all.

It only took him a moment to understand this had nothing to do with the mission, well not directly.

Something had triggered him.

A few hours ago in Sokovia, that little witch had influenced him first since that he had been walking on the edge of panic. Whatever she had done, it somehow made him vulnerable to fear. As if a shadow of the implanted vision was still lingering over him.

He had had enough panic attacks in the past to know how it felt.

But instead of listening to what one of his therapists had advised him to do - shoving the issue away and trying to concentrate on the here and now - he made the mistake to try to find out what had set this off.

Always the analytical mind, he couldn't just let it go, he needed to find out why and how and when and…

He didn't find it, but his issues got worse.

Of course it did. It always did.

"Tony?" the tone of the voice let him assume Steve had addressed him more than once already.

"Good. I 'm good."

"You don't look good."

"I'm fine! Stop the jet. Open the hatch," Tony addressed FRIDAY, struggling for air.

After they had identified Klaue, he had spent the rest of the day and all of last night to install FRIDAY into all the tower's systems and adjust her to the current state of the art. He hadn't touched the interface in over fifteen years and it took some time to update her, write new routines for new technology and save whatever he had left every tiny fragment of JARVIS before doing so.

"Please step back, everyone," he added when the hatch finally started to open, it felt like ages.

"Woah, woah! Stop that!" Steve demanded, trying to reach out for Tony's arm, but he evaded the touch.

"Hey! What's going on?" Natasha help up her hands, looking from one of them to the other with a fierce frown on her face.

"Nothing. Need to go," Tony answered.

He closed the faceplate and carefully exited though the still widening opening.

"Close the hatch, bring them home… Tell them I'll meet them there."

"What the hell, Tony?" he heard Natasha over the open intercom.

"Sorry, need to take care of... something," Tony spoke into the line FRIDAY was obviously holding open.

She needed many direct commands and most of the time failed to anticipate what would be needed next, especially when it came to 'human' factors.

Using her was like having owned the newest smart phone and then having to go back to a first generation cell phone without internet access.

"Cut the line," he grunted when a few seconds later he could still hear the others in the background.

Usually flying made things better.

Being away from dangers while high up in the air and with the reassuring presence of his AI surrounding him had helped to fight episodes of anxiety in the past.

He was so fast like this, he could outrun almost everything.

Solitude also made it easier.

He hated other people witnessing his issues. He felt broken enough without it. Even allowing Pepper to see it unsettled him and sometimes made things worse.

In addition, he was afraid of rejection, like on the day when he had summoned the suit in his sleep and she had decided to sleep alone after that.

That moment he had really needed company. He had had a panic attack after she left.

Abandonment issues.

He was so aware of them.

"Sir, I sense your heart rate is increasing, as is your respiratory frequency."

"I am aware of that. Could you shut up for a bit?"

He needed to feel save and in this very moment her mere presence did the opposite.

The safety he had experienced with JARVIS at his side had evaporated.

She was doing well, but she was not _him_.

He suddenly felt like falling.

"Display the flight route, check if we are descending for some reason. Don't speak, just display the information."

She did.

Overall, she was doing good and every system was working fine, it was just that she wasn't a _companion_.

She was an interface that left little to be desired, but she was not good company. She lacked personality and in the coming weeks he would spent days trying to give her a bit more of that.

Maybe the wound of losing JARVIS was still too sore to concentrate on making her work properly, or maybe it was some kind of mental blockade that prevented him from even trying to just replace JARVIS.

The schematics showed up on his helm display, proving to him that the flight path was constant and that he'd reach the Avengers Tower in twenty four minutes at current speed.

He increased the speed a bit, his heavy breathing loud in his ears.

The sensation of falling remained and he felt queasy.

By now he knew the feeling all too well, he didn't need FRIDAY to diagnose him with severe anxiety.

"Play some nice music for me," he tried desperately to calm down.

"What would you like to hear?"

This was exactly the problem. JARVIS would have noticed his distress and chosen something, understanding it didn't matter. What mattered was 'it' to happen fast and without much interaction.

She didn't get it.

Tony felt his breath hitch when a new wave of missing his old AI crashed into him.

Lightheadedness and vertigo suddenly added to his misery.

Instinctively he moved his arms, to regain a stable flight path but it did the opposite.

The suit started to tumble.

It took a monumental effort to get it back on course and to concentrate on flying from then on.

On one hand more than he had to spare, but on the other the effort was the only thing that kept him sane for the moment so he decided against using the autopilot.

"Randomly choose something classic, something fast."

A moment later 'Hall of the mountain king' blared into his ears.

"Shit, not… that one!... Something else!" he grunted.

"Sir, I need you to control your breathing, your heart rate is still rising," she warned him.

"Not shit… God, just play… some… damn random music!"

A moment later 'The Passenger' started to play.

What irony.

But better than the other one.

"Your heart rate is too high. May I suggest that you take some of the medication on board?" she asked.

He closed his eyes and sighed. The suites had been equipped with an injection system for pain killers from a very early model.

After he had had the first really serious panic attack, he had added emergency anxiety meds. The downside of the latter were they made him really tired and dopey, and he hated using them because they muddled his mind.

In addition, coming down from them was horrible.

They were for absolute emergencies and he wasn't there, not yet.

"No!... I can manage, just make sure we have… a clear flight path and get home fast."

At least that worked, she accelerated a bit.

Desperately, Tony concentrated on the sounds of the music, its rhythms; tried to allow his mind to flow with it, find some peace.

It was hard.

The thundering heartbeat in his ears seemed to drown out other sounds.

After what felt like ages, he did manage to bring down his heart rate a bit.

When he opened his eyes again, the reading said it had fallen ten percent, but it was still way to high.

The 'incoming call' sign indicated that the others tried to talk to him.

"Block all incoming calls," he demanded, not ready to speak to anyone in his current state.

His fingers were tingling from the too fast breathing but he knew this wasn't harmful.

If he passed out the autopilot would take over and bring him home. But he was quite sure he'd be able to prevent that.

Much more inconvenient was that he felt more and more nauseous. If he really was about to throw up he'd have to open the faceplate. To do that he needed to be low enough so he could breathe properly.

Throwing up into the suit would – besides being very gross – damage it on a level it would take him weeks to repair - if it was possible at all.

"FRIDAY, lower me to an altitude suitable for normal breathing… Not too fast, please, I already feel sick."

"Acknowledged."

Although the decent was slow, it added to his nausea.

He gulped repeatedly.

Dimly, he remembered that he had added antiemetics to some of the suits, because this was a severe problem he had thought about it at some point in the past.

Damn panic, its effects were so all- encompassing he forgot about his own tech's abilities.

However, he had only once or twice puked from an anxiety attack, and those were bad ones.

"Does this suit… carry antiemetics?" he pressed out.

There was an uncharacteristically long pause before she answered, "Affirmative."

"Okay, give me… a small dose," his voice was shaking he only now realized.

He tried to concentrate on holding his arm still, aware the mechanism had to locate a vein before injecting the medication. Intramuscular administration would have been so much easier, but might cost him his life because it needed too long to work. Being able to function even with a bad injury might save him, therefore he had opted for intravenous administration when designing the feature. It was a ridiculously tricky mechanism, if he didn't hold still she might miss the blood vessel and she couldn't give it another try because of the risk of an overdose.

The try to hold still made him aware he was actually trembling like a leave.

Nothing happened.

"FRIDAY?"

"Yes, Sir?"

Then - finally - he felt the blunt pressure of the injection nozzle pressing into his forearm.

Please make this work fast, he begged silently.

A moment later, he felt the sharp sting of the medication being pushed into his body.

Once this was done the lack of anything to focus on worsened his state. He tried to concentrate on slowing his breathing while staring at the altitude meter.

With a sharp pang of surprise, he realized he couldn't remember when the music had stopped playing.

He felt bad past his level of endurance and just wanted to be home and safe.

"ETA?" his voice sounded hoarse and weak, even in his own ears.

"Eleven point two minutes."

He was not sure how he could manage to get through even another five minutes of this.

The fact that it seemed unmakeable made his heart rate spike once more.

His thoughts spun out of control and worsened the attack.

The little bit of control he had regained in the past minutes gone.

In situations like this, JARVIS would have been of more help.

JARVIS would try to calm him down, know what to do.

Would actively be of assistance.

FRIDAY mainly did what she was told to do. Last night, he had tried to teach her more self-reliance but it was a process that would need time – a lot of time.

She lacked the wonderful sense of subtle humor and sometimes even sarcasm he had somehow managed to teach JARVIS. Or maybe the AI had done it himself.

Up to this point even he himself didn't really know what had given JARVIS something equivalent to a soul.

It was just there and it was beautiful.

Had been there…  and had been beautiful.

JARVIS' absence made him feel bare and vulnerable.

Something he had relied on all his adult life was… gone.

Just gone.

It had hit him hard. The idea that he was gone was still overwhelming and paralyzing.

Fact was, he was grieving.

The possibility that JARVIS might die had never really occurred to him. The AI wasn't bound to a body and therefore 'endless' somehow. He had assumed that as long as there was electricity and human life to keep servers running JARVIS would exist.

Worst-case scenario had been that someday he'd be replaced or shut off because something better was available.

Now he was gone.

Desperately wishing JARVIS would comfort him though this attack didn't make things better.

It added that Tony missed him this vastly.

Even though he was surrounded by friends he felt somehow alone, in addition their reaction to Ultron's appearance had been daunting to say it mildly. Being strangled by Thor hadn't been what he needed, not at all.

It might only be his grief tainting his perception and things were fine, but…

The thought that his team was in danger sparked another wave of dread and fear. He hadn't had many friends in his life and losing the few he had was not an option.

This mess was the result of his need to feel safe, the irony didn't escape him.

The dark thoughts made his breathing become more difficult again, and he opened his mouth, to breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth.

Don't think about that, he ordered himself.

Don't!

Not now.

Something felt odd.

It took him a moment to realize something felt wrong with his body.

His head knew that weird sensations could be a side effect of a severe anxiety, so he tried to ignore it.

"I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay," he whispered. Positive thoughts could help him through this.

But a moment later, a feeling of heaviness spread through him.

"FRIDAY. Can you…check… I don't feel good. Find out what's wrong."

Was he having an allergic reaction to the medication?

Breathing became increasingly difficult.

"FRIDAY?" he panted.

"Your body is well, except for the stress it is put through due to the anxiety attack."

"I feel…" it somehow had become harder to think, too. Even harder than the panic made it.

"It's odd."

His tongue suddenly felt much more difficult to use, heavy and thick.

When he tried to make a fist to test his overall ability to move he noticed they were hard to move. His legs felt kind of stiff, too.

It took him a moment to remember this was what it felt like when JARVIS had been piloting the suit in the beginning. Before they had written better routines that would enable him to move his limbs even if he wasn't on the wheel.

"Have you taken over control?" he asked, struggling against the suit.

"Yes, sir."

"Why would you do that?"

He realized he was slurring slightly.

"You said you don't feel good. Security protocols kicked in to bring you home safely."

"I hate this."

"I am very sorry, Sir. But your safety is currently more important than your comfort."

"Shit!"

"What can I do to make you more comfortable?"

"Allow me to… stretch my fingers and joints."

"You could accidentally alter the direction of flight. Inadvisable."

He felt caged suddenly.

"Wrong answer. You could easily compensate for this… FRIDAY… You are making it worse by this."

"Why?"

"I need to be… in control. This is bad."

"You'll feel better soon, Mr. Stark."

Then, finally, Tony recognized the sensation he felt – in addition to the overwhelming panic.

Dizzy, heavy, more and more tired and as if losing control of his body.

"Shit," he slurred. "What the hell did you gimme?"

"Alprazolam, as advised by Dr Banner."

"I… asked for… an antiemetic."

"Well, it _is_ used to treat nausea," she replied.

"Why are you…? This is against my orders."

"No. My programming says that in medical emergencies, when it comes to decision concerning your health, doctors need to be consulted, which is what happened."

"I am still conscious," Tony whined, feeling betrayed, although he was aware she was right. "Doesn't apply in a situation like this."

This would have probably kicked his agitation through the roof if not for the medication already in his system.

He realized that some of his stress was somehow vanishing behind a veil of chemical mist.

His body was getting even heavier, relaxing on his own.

"It was only a very small dose," she vindicated.

"FRIDAY! Not the point!" he hissed, once more concentrating on slowing down his breathing.

"Need to have… a real heart to heart talk about… who is giving the orders here."

A change in the suit's position in the air made him flinch.

It took some long seconds for him to realize she had just turned him onto his back, flying with his back pointing down.

This felt really odd.

On the other hand, the position was way more relaxing.

At least the nausea was rapidly subsiding.

"I order you… to bring me straight to my quarters - as soon as we reach the Tower… No detours… Privacy is the main objective here… You understand?"

"Yes, Mr. Stark."

It brought up bad memories to be on his back while in the suit but the drug was doing its work, and he realized the memories were there and he knew they were alarming, they just weren't. He just couldn't make himself bother to care about it.

"Shit," he breathed once more, and then, exhaustion took over and he drifted off into unconsciousness.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I am aware JARVIS is written J.A.R.V.I.S and the same with FRIDAY, but it really disturbs my reading flow to have the dots there. So I left them out. Hope this spelling is not too much of an issue?


End file.
